


At Least He Was Polite

by rainier_day



Series: The Mighty Neighbours [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen, M/M, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 04:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20091622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainier_day/pseuds/rainier_day
Summary: Caleb’s heart has been stolen.





	At Least He Was Polite

**Author's Note:**

> Technically the second part of this series, technically.

Caleb’s heart has been stolen.

Flipping page after page without ever reading even a single word, Caleb runs a hand through his hair and sighs. It’s been two days since he got dragged out of the library by Beau and ended up leaving the bar with Mollymauk. 

Two days since he had his arms around the tiefling, apologizing frequently as they bumped into each other in that tiny apartment kitchen.

Two days since he left with a simple “thank you” and “goodnight, Mister Mollymauk” rather than a kiss and some form of a confession.

Hating his near-perfect memory at times like this, Caleb drops his head down on the pages and tries to close the book over his head. Then he hears, “...are you done with that one then?”

He looks up to see Beau standing next to him with a cart ready to empty his desk of all his finished books and shakes his head. “Nein, sorry, I am not done reading.”

She narrows her eyes and scans the rest of the books and the notebook he has in front of him, all untouched and pristine. “Caleb, I was off yesterday, so you’ve had two days since the bar. Have you read _any _books since?”

Groaning, he tries again to close the cover on himself—although he doesn’t try too hard because it would only add insult to injury if he were to damage the priceless ancient leather binding in the process. “Nein. I cannot focus.”

In his mind, all he can see are glimmering charms under low lights and warm crimson eyes and soft jazz as they sway in an apartment ill-suited for dancing.

Eyes wide with disbelief, Beau pulls him upright in his seat and slaps a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. “Are you sick? Dude, you normally plow through like a dozen books in a day!”

“Shh!” they hear from farther back in the library.

Flipping the other librarian off, Beau hisses, “Fuck off, _Zee-noth_, I’m dealing with something right now!”

A sigh, and the archivist walks away shaking his head.

“Okay, get up,” she says, physically pulling his chair back. “You need some fresh air and everyone here knows better than to touch your stuff.”

“But I need to do work,” Caleb mutters half-heartedly even as he’s dragged away from his desk. 

Beau rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re not getting any work done like this anyway, Widogast. Let’s go have lunch. The food trucks should be at the park soon. If you argue with me I’ll call Nott and Jester to come get you.”

At that threat, he closes his mouth and allows himself to be dragged outside while Beau calls for one of the other librarians to watch over his workstation, earning her another round of shushes.

\--

Outside, Beauregard all but plops him down on a nearby bench in the park next to the library. Caleb sighs and lets his head loll back against the wooden backing, taking in the fresh air and sunshine that he so rarely takes the time to enjoy. Even as he looks up at the clouds in the sky, all he can think of is the stupid way he left—polite but ultimately detached, or even worse, _uninterested_. “I am an idiot.”

“You sure are, pal,” Beau says, returning with two plates of assorted tacos. “What the fuck happened to you since you left with Molly that night?”

Caleb winces at the name.

Studying him closely for a moment, Beau shakes her head slowly and incredulously. “Oh, shit. Caleb. _Dude_.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he sighs, “Please don’t.”

“Shit, Caleb, you’ve got it bad for Molly, don’t you?” she continues despite his words.

He groans and lowers his head and she snatches the plate out of his hands before he can drown himself in salsa and assorted meats. “This is the worst.”

Pushing his head back up, she returns the plate to his hands and says, “Hey, I’m about to start eating, so don’t you try to shove your face in your food again, okay? I won’t have any hands to fish you out.”

Caleb sits there for a solid minute while she scarfs down the first taco.

Turning back to him, Beau sighs and shakes her head. “Okay, no, don’t just sit there. That’s weird too. Try eating. It’s good. Don’t waste my money.”

Obediently picking up one of the tacos, he carefully takes a miserable bite out of it. It’s delicious but all he can say is, “My heart feels too big for my chest.” 

Beau glances over, half-way through her next. “I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition.”

“Ja, it is. Cardiomegaly. But I meant that figuratively,” he mutters, taking another bite. When his friend doesn’t reply for a moment, he looks over to see her smiling in bemusement at him. “I am glad you are deriving pleasure from my pain, Beauregard.”

“What? No! It’s just different seeing you like this. You know, fumbling around and being all weird because you have a crush? You almost seem human,” Beau says amicably. “That’s a joke, by the way. I know my delivery isn’t always the best.”

He huffs. “Almost human. That is a bold statement considering how much I screwed up.” 

She scoffs. “Couldn’t have been worse than that time Keg got stuck on our balcony because she tried to sneak out the window and forgot we were on the fifth floor. You slept with Molly, so what?”

Caleb resolutely finishes his taco in silence.

Beau’s eyes widen. “Oh. Okay...did you get a kiss or anything?”

More silence.

Giving him a nervous look, Beau asks, “Fuck, Caleb, did you do something stupid and get yourself kicked out?”

“Nein.”

“At least there’s that then,” she says. “Look, Molly seemed pretty into you, dude. I don’t get how you could’ve screwed up that badly. Tell me what happened.”

So he does. 

He tells her about the dance, to which she makes a face and says, “Aw, you guys. Gross. But continue.”

“Then I thanked him for the dance.”

“And then?”

“And then I said goodnight.”

“...and then?”

“And then I went home and have not seen Mollymauk since.”

A long pause.

“...at least you were polite?” Beau tries with a wince.

“Ja, at least I was polite,” he mumbles back, sighing into his next taco. After finishing his second taco, he nods to himself, his head a little clearer now. “I do feel better though. Thank you.”

Without any free hands, she nudges him and nods. “No problem, man. Sometimes it helps to talk things out. So what are you gonna do about it?”

Licking his fingers and picking up his third taco, he shrugs. “Well, first, I need to catch up on my work.”

Beau stares for a long moment before shaking her head and returning her attention to eating. “...I don’t know why I even try with you.”

\--

He does manage to catch up on his work somehow. When the library starts closing for the day, Beauregard all but kicks him out and sends him an angry text after about the stacks of books he made her put back. 

When he gets home, he’s greeted by Nott and Jester lying around on the living room floor and chatting happily amongst themselves. At once, he knows trouble is afoot when Jester grins at him. “Hey, Cay-leb!”

Picking Frumpkin up, Caleb holds the cat up as a protective shield and mutters the first thing on his mind, “Jester, you are a very dear friend. Please have mercy on me.”

She immediately pouts. “Aww, I can’t say it after you say something like _that_.”

Pausing for a moment and doing his best to stare her down, he eventually gives in and sighs, “Ja, fine. Say it.”

Immediately fluttering her eyelashes, she coos, “Thank you for the dance.”

“I wasn’t the one who told her,” Nott adds right after, her hands raised defensively.

“No, she didn’t,” the tiefling agrees. “I think you would be happier if it was though.”

Caleb raises a hand to stop them and walks over and throws himself on the couch before waving for her to continue. “Go ahead.”

Jester shoots Nott a concerned look at his acceptance. “Oh, I don’t know if I should now.”

“I think he already figured it out,” Nott whispers back.

Sitting next to him, Jester rubs his back gently. “There, there, Caleb. At least you were polite?”

He groans in response.

Nott squeaks and whispers sharply, “I don’t think that helped!”

“Hey, it wasn’t so bad,” Jester reassures him. “Molly was kind of confused, yes, but I told him you were, like, _super_ shy and the fact that you danced with him at all meant you must _really_ like him, like, super a lot—or should I not have said that?”

At this point, he doesn’t know what’s worse, and he says as much.

“Caleb, I’m pretty sure Molly likes you, just ask him out,” Jester tells him. “Unless you don’t like him that way, in which case I _really_ shouldn’t have said that to him.” Then she picks herself back up and continues, “But you like Molly, right? Of course you do! I mean, you _danced_ with him and you never danced with _me_. Has he ever danced with you, Nott?”

“No, not with me,” Nott replies.

Caleb sighs, “Ja, I am not prone to dancing with people. And ja, perhaps I like Mollymauk more than I should, but I have screwed everything up already so can we please just drop it?”

Still rubbing his back, Jester mimics his sigh, “How’s it screwed up? Didn’t you hear what I said? Molly _likes_ you! All you have to do is tell him you like him—oh, or you can do a big romantic gesture!” Suddenly increasing her strength, she accidentally knocks him over and he just lets it happen, falling over onto his side. Jester doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in her excitement. “And you could be like, ‘Mollymauk, I am deeply in love with you!’ And he’d be like, ‘Gods, I feel the same way, Caleb!’ And then you two can kiss and dance and get really wild and—”

Not letting Frumpkin go even as the cat squirms to get into a more comfortable position, Caleb mutters, “I think I get the idea, thank you.” Pushing himself back up into sitting position, he says, “That does give me an idea though.” A pause. “Never mind, it’s horrible.”

Jester immediately shoves him back over. “_Cay-leb_, don’t be such a tease!”

Nott immediately bodily drapes herself over him protectively. “Don’t shove my boy—even if he _is_ a tease! He’s weak!”

Grunting as Jester decides to join the dog pile instead, he winces as Frumpkin finally struggles and breaks free. “Thank you, Nott. Can you both get off me? I am very weak, remember?”

“Not until you tell us your big romantic idea!” Jester shouts.

Caleb winces. “Not so loud, bitte. These walls are thin.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Molly’s working tonight,” she reassures him. “So, is there anything we can do to help?” Grinning, she squeals happily at the goblin. “This is so romantic, Nott! It’s going to be just like _Tusk Love_!”

Caleb arches a brow at the mention and he can’t help but point out, “I have read that book, Jester—at your insistence. This will not be like that.”

\--

It takes him about a week to prepare everything. A long, horrendous week of silence and work. A terrible, drawn-out week of knowing grins from Beau whenever he took even one book fewer than his normal amount to get home just a little earlier. A week of returning to an empty apartment only to hear soft music coming from the far walls and being envious of his cat for getting to dance with his beautiful neighbour while he cannot.

He consoles himself, though, that Mollymauk wouldn’t dance with Frumpkin if he hated Caleb. The thought is often followed by the wry realization that his cat is far better at these interactions and made a far better companion than him. And if he happens to sneak a peek through Frumpkin’s eyes every now and then only to be dazzled by Molly’s brilliant presence—as far as anyone’s concerned, it’s to help him prepare for the big day.

\--

When the day finally arrives, Caleb swallows the lump in his throat as he attaches the note around Frumpkin’s neck. “Bitte, do this one thing for me and I will get you whatever meal your heart desires, my friend,” he mutters, willing his own heart not to burst on spot. 

Frumpkin meows idly at him and sits and licks his paw.

“We have a deal then, yes?”

He leaves the apartment and makes his way upstairs. Once in position, he gives Frumpkin the telepathic cue. But then unable to stave off his curiosity, he peers into his cat’s eyes as the familiar ventures out the open window and open to the neighbouring apartment complex. 

There’s soft music, some sort of alternative pop this time, and Molly is sitting at the counter on a barstool, tapping his foot to the beat of the song. From the window, Frumpkin trills and chitters in greeting and the tiefling turns his head, mimicking the noise back with a smile. “Hello there, my very handsome visitor. Come for a dance and a cuddle, have you? Have you eaten yet? I don’t suppose your handsome and very polite roommate would mind if I snuck you a little piece of fish, would he?”

Caleb’s surprised he doesn’t drop dead right then and there.

Frumpkin meows in response and leaps off the window ledge onto the counter and trots over. Crimson eyes blink as Mollymauk notices the piece of paper attached to the back of Frumpkin’s neck by a loose piece of string (because Frumpkin may be magical, but he’s still a _cat_ and Caleb wouldn’t put it past him to accidentally choke himself). 

“What’s this you’ve got here, little darling?” Molly takes the note and stares at it for a long moment before tilting his head curiously. Getting up, he turns off his music and tells Frumpkin, “Don’t eat my food, okay? Breaking my heart and two-timing is one thing, but eating my food is another.”

Once the door to the apartment closes, Caleb returns to his own vision, his heart racing. He waits all of 30 seconds before he starts pacing and second-guessing himself. “This is a terrible idea. He is going to hate it or think you are mad,” he mutters. “What were you thinking? You should stop giving in to bad ideas just because people sit on you.”

He continues on this trajectory and freezes when he hears the door to the rooftop open. Molly steps out in nothing but a loose white top, his colourful leggings, and those thigh-high boots Caleb finds difficult to tear his eyes away from. “Mister Caleb, I believe you summoned me?” Molly says good-naturedly. Looking around at the setup a little bemusedly, he adds, “Quite literally, possibly.”

The rooftop’s been thoroughly decorated. The Nott-Lavorre storm blew through and scattered flower petals across the floor (and there may or may not be a basket of condoms hidden away somewhere—courtesy of Jester). There are lanterns strung up and a large chalk-drawn magic circle.

Caleb takes in all the decorations and rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, I may have overdone it. Hallo, Mollymauk. How are you?”

In the back of his mind, he can hear Beau teasing him about his compulsive politeness already.

Molly blinks, his tail curling and swaying with curiosity. “I’m well. I haven’t seen you around. Been busy with work? And whatever this is?”

“This. I, um, we danced that time,” he says, his words choppy and staggered.

“Yes, we did,” the tiefling agrees. “It was very nice.”

He nods. “Ja, I made a mistake.” Molly’s tail stills and Caleb nearly kicks himself before he quickly adds, “Wait, nein, sorry, I meant I only said thank you without making plans for the next. I hope I did not take you away from anything important, but if you are amenable, perhaps we could maybe…” 

When, still frowning, Molly doesn’t answer right away, the panic and anxiety start to set in.

Snapping Frumpkin into his arms, he holds his familiar out and offers, “Or if you would prefer, you can dance with your usual partner?”

Crimson eyes blink in surprise as the cat lets out a soft mew. “Frumpkin! Wait, you mean you could’ve just snapped him back to your apartment this whole time?”

Caleb shrugs helplessly. “Ja, forgive me, but I did not want to lose my only excuse to knock on your door.”

His heart drops to his stomach when Molly takes Frumpkin from his hands. “Sorry, little darling, maybe next time, okay? I still love you very much though,” the tiefling murmurs, pressing a kiss to the cat’s head. He sets the cat down and takes Caleb’s hand with a hesitant smile. “So, last time I taught you how to dance to jazz. How about you teach me how to waltz this time, Mister Caleb?”

A little taken aback, he nods. “Oh. Ja, of course. It would be my pleasure, Mister Mollymauk.”

Turning on his music and speakers with a simple cantrip, there’s a crackle then a soft tinny waltz starts playing and he leads the tiefling into the circle. As they step inside, the lanterns around them light up. Molly looks around in awe, the lights twinkling in his eyes. “Did you do this? This is amazing!”

“It is nothing special,” Caleb mutters, placing his free hand on Molly’s waist and guiding him into the first steps of the dance. As they move around the magic circle, the glow of the lanterns change from gold to red to blue. 

Molly laughs, nothing but pure delight in his voice. “Nothing special? Caleb, this is _magic_!”

That’s certainly the word he’d use to describe their current situation. With Mollymauk in his arms, looking around with happy wonder, no other word seems apt. “I suppose it is,” he agrees with a small smile.

As they dance, the chalk drawing fades away little by little until the glow of the lanterns dims to nothing and they’re waltzing under the moonlight. 

Eventually, the song winds down to an end and the two slow to a stop, and Caleb, immediately self-conscious again, stares down at his feet. “I, uh…”

“I don’t know what to say,” Molly says softly, looking up at the moon before turning back to him with a sincere smile. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

“I imagine not. I made a mess of the library trying to find the specific adjustments needed for that magic circle, so I doubt Beauregard will let anyone ever try that again,” Caleb mutters, fidgeting with his sleeves and refraining from snapping Frumpkin into his arms again. “Mollymauk—”

“Caleb—”

The two of them chuckle a little sheepishly and take a step back from each other. He ducks his head and says, “Please, you first.”

A teasing grin spreads across Molly’s face. “Thank you for the dance.”

Caleb feels his face heat up slightly even as he scrunches his face up. “At least you are polite,” he teases back, recalling his friends’ words. “And here I was, about to ask you out.”

Eyes widening, Molly stills and tilts his head. “Really? I’d say yes, you know? In a heartbeat. Even without this magical dance—although it was absolutely amazing.”

“Ja? Then, will you…?”

Molly taps his chin as though in thought for a moment. Then he smiles and holds out his hand, fingers waggling impatiently. “Only if I get another dance with you.”

He huffs out a soft laugh and steps forward to meet the tiefling halfway. “I think that can be arranged. Another dance tonight and then many more to come, Mollymauk.”

Caleb’s heart has been stolen.

And he suspects he won’t be getting it back any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> In the future, Caleb's going to ask Molly why he agreed to go out with him, and Molly will answer, "You had Frumpkin, and you were smart and handsome. And at least you were polite."


End file.
